


hold me, wrap me up

by Bre



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fear of Death, Hurt/Comfort, Light Smut, Nightmares, Post Season 1 The Punisher, Post-Season/Series 01, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 04:51:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12976344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bre/pseuds/Bre
Summary: She’s used to that, used to finding wounds and throwing herself at themtrying to assuage the flow, to fill the gaping hole, to stop the life seeping outWhat she isn’t used to is that she never can when it comes to him.





	hold me, wrap me up

**Author's Note:**

> My tags on my post: this has just been sitting in my head, one thing that always pulls at my heart is what karen said about loneliness, she's always so open and welcoming, but my girl has been so hurt before, and she's so scarred in her own way, and frank has the ability to sneak under all her defenses, to bust through all her walls, and that's terrifying, especially because she wants him to, but at what cost?

The blood on her fingers isn’t a strange sight. 

She’s used to it, more than she should be, she thinks. The crimson stains her skin, seeps into the cracks, caking her fingernails, and she’s _used_  to it, to how wet and sticky it is, how  _warm_. She’s used to that, used to finding wounds and throwing herself at them

_trying to assuage the flow_

_to fill the gaping hole_

_to stop the life seeping out_

What she isn’t used to is that she never can when it comes to him.

She always has to watch his blood flood through her fingers, so much of it coming out no matter how hard she pushes on the holes in his chest, no matter how tight she holds him, how much she whispers - _begs_  - telling him to hold on, just a few more minutes, that he’s survived so much worse and she’s _here and you can’t do this don’t leave me don’t go i’m here_

He stares up at her, watching her, his eyes startlingly clear, lucid, aware, and he knows, he always knows that this is it. She hates it, because she feels it too, in her bones, a certainty that makes her shake and cry and scream and _no no no you can’t go don’t leave_

_i can’t lose you_

But she does.

The blood pools underneath him, spreading, cold by the time it reaches her knees where she kneels next to him, where she tries to save him, to keep him

_“No, please, Frank, please, don’t, no… stay with me, stay…”_  


She can’t save him. She never can. 

_no no no no no_

“Hey, Karen, wake up. Wake up, Karen. Wake up. You’re dreaming.”

_he touches her cheek, his fingers already cold, wet with blood and tears, the opposite of the small smile on his face as he watches her. his eyes never leave hers, like she’s an anchor… but he’s her anchor, too; she’s opened herself to him, finally, they opened up to each other and found a center of gravity in a world that’s always turning upside down, and she needs him, needs him to stay_

_“don’t leave me alone don’t leave me don’t…”_  


“Karen.”  


_“please stay stay stay”_  


“Karen.”  


Her eyes fly open on a ragged gasp. 

The room is dark and cold - no, that’s just her hands, they’re ice - and she jerks awake, trying to find her gravity, her solid ground, her anchor. The room disappears in a blur, leaving her floating, terror flooding her veins until she’s shaking so bad she can barely breathe. Her cheeks are wet and her eyes sting with tears and for that split second between sleep and awake she’s positive that she’s alone, that he’s gone, and the wounded cry that escapes from deep in her chest fills the room, shredding her heart into ribbons, leaving her with nothing, leaving her alone, _always alone_

Except she’s not.

“Shh, shh, shh,” Frank whispers, ignoring her thrashing, pulling her close. 

It takes her a second too long - _it always does_  - and she fights him, an angry sob falling from her lips as she tries to push him away, but he doesn’t let her. He never does. Frank cradles her closer, shushing her, soothing her, wrapping her up until there’s nothing left but _them_. He pushes his face into her hair, breathes her in, encouraging her to do the same, holding the back of her head, holding her still. 

 _Anchoring her_. 

“You’re okay. You’re okay. Shh, shh, you’re okay.”  


Karen takes a broken breath, and it’s a knife slicing through her throat. It cuts her open and all the pain and fear and worry and anger falls out, coating him. Coating both of them. The tears don’t stop - _will they ever_  - and he takes all of it, like always, never letting her go as she clings to him, digging her nails in, holding on, telling herself _he’s here, he’s alive, there’s not blood_

_right now_

He’s warm, his scarred naked skin pressing into hers, his callused fingers scraping over her scalp and ear and jaw, up and down, before falling down her spine, digging in, holding her so tightly. She gasps for air, pressing her face into his shoulder, breathing him in until the room stops spinning.

“Easy,” Frank says, so softly. “Easy, easy, I got you, I got you.”  


She doesn’t know how to respond.

“Was it the same dream?” he asks after a moment. 

He already knows the answer, but she nods anyway.

“I’m not going anywhere, Karen, you got that? I’m here, okay, I’m here.”  


“You can’t say that,” she replies, her voice muffled against his skin. She moves just enough to speak louder, but she doesn’t let him go. She digs her forehead into his shoulder, shaking her head. “You can’t say that.”  


_You can’t say you’re not going anywhere._

He can’t, and he knows it. Because he hasn’t stopped. Because he can’t stop. There’s always more people, more darkness waiting, pulling him back in, sending him back out onto the streets. It’s who he is now. He can’t shut it off, and she doesn’t want him to. But she also can’t shut off her fear. It took them too long to get here and now that she has it - _has him_ \- she feels every single bullet and cut and bruise and tear that he comes home with on a whole new visceral level. He knows it, just as much as she does.

There’s nothing to say. No words. He only holds her tighter, both of them powerless against the emotion that bind them together, unable to let go, unwilling, but knowing it won’t end well.

But they’re here now, they have now, and she tells herself that over and over and over when she presses her lips to his chest, when she caresses his back, when she slips her leg over his hip, feeling him hardening against her as he nuzzles the top of her head. He urges her to look up at him, both of them sighing when they press their foreheads together before his lips cover hers, before she pulls him closer and he pushes her onto her back, hovering over her, surrounding her before he slides into her waiting heat, both of them gasping when they find that primal connection, when the lock together, anchoring each other.

They have now.

And that’s all that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse.
> 
> [Original Tumblr Post]()


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